


there are beasts in the night, and delight and pain

by Ellieb3an



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Friends to Lovers, M/M, canon character death, mentions of sibling abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21729034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellieb3an/pseuds/Ellieb3an
Summary: Felix struggles with what Sylvain means to him as everything changes, but he's certain of this: Sylvain is constant and annoying and too important to lose.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 23
Kudos: 155





	1. Chapter 1

_...the world out there is complicated,_

_and there are beasts in the night, and delight and pain,_

_and the only thing that makes it okay, sometimes,_

_is to reach out a hand in the darkness and find another hand to squeeze,_

_and not to be alone..._

\- “All I Know About Love,” Neil Gaiman

\---

Felix can’t find Sylvain. 

It’s growing dark as the sun sets behind a veil of smoke. The sounds of weapons clashing in combat have finally gone quiet, replaced by the calls of healers rushing around the battlefield to tend to the wounded. The battle is over, a hard-won victory for the Kingdom’s army, and everyone is regrouping, exhausted but relieved to have made it through to see another day. 

Sylvain should be back with Felix by now. They were fighting beside each other like every other battle, but along the way, Felix lost track while trying to cut through an enemy battalion. Now he has no idea where Sylvain is. His battalion is here, but he isn’t. And the only information his knights have to offer is that he separated from them to respond to a cry for help from the east. 

The east, where the trees are still ablaze.

Felix takes a horse and rides as swiftly as it will take him. He feels like a hand has punched through his chest to grip his heart, and it won’t release. This war — this life — has taken too much from him already. He will not allow it another. Especially not Sylvain.

Felix will find him and drag him to the healers if that’s what it takes to make sure Sylvain makes it back alive. They’ve been through too much together, have made so many promises along the way, that Felix without Sylvain is not an option. 

\---

Felix is five years old the first time he sees Sylvain’s skin mended back together. 

It’s a rare warm day at the Gautier manor when Felix accompanies his father for a visit. He’s so excited he can hardly stand still through greeting pleasantries. When he notices that his friend is not part of their reception, he shuffles his feet back and forth and tugs on his father’s sleeve. It earns him a stern look from his father, still talking with the Margrave, and Glenn discreetly pulls him away and gestures for him to hush. 

“You’ll have to excuse Felix,” his father apologizes. “He was looking forward to seeing your younger son.”

“I’m sure Sylvain must be finishing his riding lesson about now,” the Margrave says. “He’ll be along shortly.” 

But Felix doesn’t want to wait for Sylvain to come to him, and the moment he is dismissed, he tears off in the direction of the stables with Glenn on his heels. 

It’s lonely in Fraldarius recently. Glenn is so busy training harder than ever to become a knight that he scarcely has time to devote to playing with Felix anymore. He’ll humor him with some training swordplay, but more often than not, Felix’s requests for attention are met with a dismissive sigh and “not now, Felix.” 

It serves Glenn right that now he’s tasked with keeping an eye on Felix for the day when Felix only cares about seeing Sylvain, who is never dismissive. He always greets Felix with big hugs and bright smiles and enthusiasm that never lets Felix feel like a nuisance. He takes Felix on adventures, which typically means wandering the property and occasionally climbing things they shouldn’t, and declares Felix his best buddy for adventures, even over Glenn or Dimitri. 

Sylvain is heading toward the stables on his pony when they approach. His eyes light up as he notices them, and he stands in his stirrups to wave.

“Felix!” he shouts with all the warmth and genuine delight that sets Felix’s little heart beating fast as he thinks it’s going to be a great day. 

But Sylvain’s jerk of an older brother has other plans.

Twice Sylvain’s age, Miklan seems to have become a worse bully every time Felix comes to the Gautier estate. Usually it’s reserved to snide taunts and shoving Sylvain into bushes or walls when he’s “in the way,” but there are times Miklan is particularly cruel and frightening. Accidents tend to happen far more often when Miklan is near, and for all that Felix seeks out Glenn’s attention, Sylvain seems to shy from Miklan’s.

What fool let him take Sylvain riding, Felix will wonder when he recalls the memory later. Now, he just watches in horror as Miklan’s quick smack to the pony’s hind spooks the animal enough to jolt and throw Sylvain, still off-balance from greeting Felix. He goes flying with a startled cry and lands hard on the ground, and Felix and Glenn run quickly as they can to close the distance between them. 

Glenn gets there first, Felix a moment after that; Miklan doesn’t get there at all, instead acting as if he’s got to get control of the startled pony. Sylvain sits on the ground, blood trickling past his hand where he holds it to his arm and hisses in pain over the lip he’s trapped between his teeth. Glenn pulls his fingers away to prod at a nasty gash that makes Felix cry and Sylvain go pale. 

So instead of enjoying the nice day outside, they’re whisked away into Sylvain’s bedroom. Had they been in Fhirdiad, the injury probably could have been mended with a simple healing spell, but there are no magic healers at the manor when they’re needed at the border. Instead, a servant cleans and closes the wound while Felix sits curled against Sylvain’s side.

With each prick of the needle through Sylvain’s skin and every tug to pull the thread tight, fresh tears fall from Felix’s eyes, but not Sylvain’s. Just turned eight, he’s much closer to Glenn’s nine years than Felix’s five, and besides, he’s never cried about things like Felix does anyway. He winces at the pain but still gives Felix a tight-lipped smile and ruffles his hair with a shaky hand.

“It’s okay, Felix, it doesn’t hurt that bad,” he lies, his voice light and comforting, like Felix is the one whose blood spilled on the path to the house. 

Then his eyes catch something in the doorway and he seems to shrink a bit, staring down at his lap. Felix sees Miklan standing outside the open doorway, glowering in their direction before he turns and leaves without a word.

Felix hugs Sylvain around the middle and buries his face in his shoulder. He stubbornly holds back his tears, because right now it’s his turn to make Sylvain feel better, even if this is all that he can do. But in a few hours, he’ll have to go home and leave Sylvain here with a monster that’s always lurking around the corner. 

It’s that day that Felix understands what it is to feel love and hate in equal measure.

\---

Felix peers out from underneath the bed he’s made his hiding place. It’s been far too long, he decides, as he blows a puff of air at the bangs falling in his eyes; surely, his friends should have found him by now. He’s bored and getting hungry. It must be close to dinner time, so they’ll have to find him soon. 

He waits a moment longer, listening carefully, but hears no footsteps in the hall, nothing to indicate that anyone is on their way, so he wiggles out and brushes a dust bunny from his arm. Given how dirty the room is, it’s clear no one has entered the quarters of the late dowager queen in quite some time, perhaps not since she died two years earlier. It’s no wonder Felix’s friends haven’t found him yet. He’s not really _supposed_ to be there, he knows, but it doesn’t stop him feeling frustrated that roughly an hour after their game began, he still hasn’t been found.

Dimitri is the _worst_ seeker, in his own castle, no less.

“Guess I have to go find _him_ ,” Felix says grumpily to himself as he tugs on the door handle.

As far back as Felix can remember — which isn’t much, considering he’s only six years old — the royal castle in Fhirdiad has been a second home to him. As one of King Lambert’s closest advisors, his father has frequent business there, and he usually brings Felix and Glenn along. 

Felix loves being there with Dimitri — playing knights, stealing buns from the kitchen, fishing in the pond during the summer. It’s also the place where he usually gets to play with all of his friends together. While their parents gather for important meetings or formal affairs, Felix, Dimitri, Ingrid, and Sylvain run around the castle. 

He’s the youngest of their group — though he, Dimitri, and Ingrid are only months apart in age — and also the smallest. In most games that they play, Felix rarely ever beats the others. Play wrestling always gets Felix pinned. Ingrid always catches the best fish at the pond. Dimitri is far better at climbing. Though Felix is faster than Ingrid and Dimitri in a race, Sylvain covers more ground with his longer legs. 

But there’s one thing Felix prides himself in being the best at. Thanks to the time spent exploring the castle with Dimitri under Glenn’s watchful eye, he knows nearly every room, hall, and passage as well as he does the ones at home. And it’s made him especially good at playing hide-and-seek. 

Sure, Dimitri knows the castle even better, but he lacks the creativity to choose hiding spots his friends don’t already know about. Besides, Dimitri is so clumsy that they inevitably hear him moving around or breaking things wherever he hides — and when he seeks, too.

Felix, on the other hand, is quiet and creeps into small, unexpected spaces. He’s always the last to be found.

Well, this time, it seems to have gotten him into a bit of trouble, because when he pulls the handle, the door won’t budge. He frowns and pulls on it harder, but it still doesn’t go anywhere. 

He’s stuck.

“Hello?” Felix shouts, banging his fist against the door, hoping to get someone’s attention. “Is anyone out there?”

But he is in a remote wing of the castle. He bangs and bangs on the door for a long time, and still no one comes. When he finally gives up, tears cloud Felix’s vision as he slides down the wall. 

Has everyone forgotten to look for him? Shouldn’t Glenn have come for him by now if Dimitri gave up? What if they leave him to starve through dinner? Or leave him here all night? 

Another hour passes, and no one answers Felix’s periodic calls for help. It grows dark outside, but he doesn’t even have a candle, let alone a fireplace to warm the room. He hides himself in a corner with his knees pulled up to his chest and cries into his folded arms, shivering as the air gets colder.

He must drift off to sleep that way, because he’s awoken by a loud thud and a creak as the door finally opens.

“Felix, are you in here?”

Startled and groggy, Felix picks up his head to blink at the candlelit image of Sylvain standing in the doorway before everything comes rushing back to him and he’s sniffling back his tears all over again.

“Aw, Fe, what happened?” Sylvain sets down the candle and reaches for him, wrapping him in warm arms. 

Felix clings to him. “The door got stuck… I thought you all forgot about me.”

“Of course we didn’t. We’ve been looking all over the place. You’ve got the whole castle worried about you. The prince is upset; he thinks _he_ lost you.”

“He _did_ ,” Felix says grouchily, his voice muffled against Sylvain’s shirt. 

Sylvain laughs and dries Felix’s cheeks. “C’mon, let’s go let them all know you’re safe.”

Felix holds onto Sylvain’s hand like a lifeline while they walk back together. His friends may call him a baby for it later, but it doesn’t matter now. Sylvain is here, and Felix feels safe.

\---

“Okay Felix, he’s finishing up in the training room now,” Sylvain says in an excited stage whisper as he comes running back around the corner to Felix’s hiding place. 

“Did he see you?” Felix asks, peeking around as far as he dares. Still no sign of Glenn.

Sylvain grins and takes an armful snowballs from the impressive pile they’ve been working on all afternoon. “Nah, he’s got no clue what he’s about to walk into.”

Felix’s nose and cheeks sting from the cold air — they’ve been outside for the better part of the afternoon — but he can’t stop smiling back. 

It’s turned out to be a much better day than it started out. Morning training with Glenn was awful when spar after spar ended in Felix’s loss. Of course it did, since Glenn is four years older, focused on nothing but his training, and a prodigee. That didn’t stop Felix’s frustrated tears from coming, though, and Glenn’s admonishment didn’t help matters.

_Sensitive_ , their father has always called Felix. Quick to tears, no matter the emotion; sometimes Felix isn’t even sure himself. _Crybaby_ , Glenn calls him instead. 

“Felix, if you’re going to be a knight one day, you have to toughen up. You’re too old for this.”

He’s never trying to be mean when he says things like that. It’s probably meant to motivate Felix, but many days it feels too harsh.

Fortunately, on such a day as this, Sylvain turned up for a visit just as Felix was running out of the training room. And as Glenn continued on training by himself, a plan was formed.

“We’d have a great advantage if one of us could get into that tree,” Sylvain says, pointing out the large oak near the path. “Think you can climb it?”

In warmer weather, Felix can scale the tree with no problem, but he’s not sure when there’s snow and ice coating it today. “Give me a hand.”

Sylvain drops his load of snowballs at the base of the tree, and Felix begins to climb. Sure enough, his boots slip against the icy bark, but Sylvain pushes him up higher until he’s settled on a low, strong bough. “He’s still not coming, right?” 

Felix glances at the training entrance and shakes his head. “All clear.”

Sylvain begins passing snowballs up to him. “Okay, I’m gonna wait by the door. I’ll lead him this way, and you hit him from above when he gets close enough.”

“Okay!” Felix agrees while securing the snowballs — some balanced precariously in his lap and the rest in an arm tucked up against his chest.

Sylvain runs back to their snow fortress — a glorified wall of snow packed against the corner of the stable — and scoops up as many snowballs as his arms can carry before sneaking back to ambush Glenn.

He’s just in time, too. Glenn is shutting the training hall doors when Sylvain pelts him with the first snowballs. Shouting with surprise, he protects his face and turns back against the doors until there is a break where he can face his attacker.

“Gautier!” He reaches down to get his own handful of snow but isn’t fast enough to do it before Sylvain lobs his last snowball at his shoulder and takes off toward the stockpile of them. 

Glenn comes chasing after him, putting him right in range of Felix’s perch in the tree, and Felix gets him in the face on his first shot. Glenn sputters and finally takes notice of him. 

“Felix! I’m gonna get you for that!”

He jumps to try and reach him, but Felix laughs and throws a few more snowballs.

Glenn hardly resembles the calm, collected swordsman who defeated Felix spar after spar earlier, not sitting on his butt with a face full of snow and the annoyed scowl of a bratty kid. Not as another wave of snowballs hits him from the snow fort and he squawks. 

He makes for Sylvain again, and Felix, out of snowballs, drops out of the tree to chase after him. He leaps onto Glenn’s back and they both topple over under a flurry of Sylvain’s attacks.

Breathless, Glenn goes limp, lying with Felix pinned beneath his back. “Fine, fine, I yield.”

Felix tries to push him off. “Then get off of me, you oaf!” 

“No, I don’t think I will,” Glenn says lightly, wiggling a bit as if getting himself comfortable. “I’m too tired.”

“Sylvain, help!” Felix whines. 

He can hear the snow crunching under his friend’s boots as he approaches. Then, Sylvain stands over them, a snowball in each hand and a devilish look on his red face. 

“Looks like I get two Fraldariuses for the price of one,” he says victoriously — promptly before dropping snow in both of their faces.

_Traitor_. 

Glenn finally rolls off of Felix to catch Sylvain by the ankle and send him toppling, and Felix lunges forward, wrestling Sylvain into the snow. 

It’s a silly thing, not an incredibly significant moment, but for years, when Felix recalls what happiness feels like, it’s a winter day in Faerghus with him and his two of his favorite people lying in a tangle of cold, wet limbs, laughing breathlessly as one of the housekeepers scolds them all to come in by the fire.

\---

The year that Sylvain turns thirteen, everyone they know gathers to witness the first time his parents formally parade him around like some prize stud horse. It’s a grand affair with all of the most important noble families, so of course Dimitri and Ingrid come, as well as Felix and his family, though none of them are intended to keep Sylvain company. 

Instead, Sylvain is made to dance with one noble daughter after another, some old enough that it must be a bit uncomfortable. Standing off to the side with Dimitri, Felix overhears some girls — who look a bit older than Glenn — talking about how handsome Sylvain is. 

“It’s nice to see that the good genes don’t only extend to his crest,” one of them says, sounding pleased.

Felix wrinkles his nose in annoyance, but looking around, he realizes that they’re not the only people appraising Sylvain in such a manner. The whole affair has been planned to show off what the Gautier family has to sell, and the potential buyers all seem pleased with the product.

It makes Felix feel a little sick, but Sylvain manages through the evening with effortless charm and a smile that doesn’t look quite like his own. 

He has always been a flirt, showing his appreciation for pretty girls at every opportunity, but something changes after that day. He becomes relentless in his pursuit of fleeting romances. He’s always “in love” with a girl one day and then falling for another the next, and he earns quite the reputation for breaking hearts.

Unsurprisingly, it irritates his parents that he messes around so much and has yet to secure anything serious, but that only seems to encourage his behavior more. If everyone is going to take advantage of him for his crest, his status, or his wealth, it seems that Sylvain feels it’s his right to take advantage back.

Felix is certain that he’s still one of the few genuine relationships Sylvain has, but sometimes that sugary flattery and flirtatious teasing creeps into their interactions, like Sylvain’s forgotten how to turn it off. It’s off-putting, and Felix can’t stand the idea of becoming another person Sylvain maintains his facade with.

So he makes sure at every opportunity to knock some sense into him. A teasing comment and a wink from Sylvain are worth a good punch in the arm from Felix. And if he thinks Felix is going to just sit there and listen to him prattling on about his girl of the week during training without getting his feet swept out from under him… well, he’s got another thing coming to him.

The following summer, however, they’re all in Fhirdiad for a week surrounding Glenn’s knighting ceremony, and Sylvain’s romantic pursuits become particularly insufferable. He bails on training with the rest of them twice in favor of trying to woo one of the girls in town. He shows up late to a planned riding trip with a basket full of sweets gifted to him by one of the girls from the kitchen. He’s blatantly obvious in spreading his affections around to only the most inappropriate potential partners in the capital, and people talk.

His greatest offense, as far as Felix is concerned, is that he sneaks out of the banquet following the knighting ceremony with a young giggling servant. There are a lot of people gathered, so it’s not difficult to slip away during the dancing and eating and laughter. Felix always feels a little overwhelmed in crowds like this, though, so he’s hanging back on the periphery while Ingrid takes Glenn’s attention and Dimitri is stuck at the stuffy head of the room where the royal family watches over the festivities. And of course, Felix searches for the familiar red hair among the sea of nobles. And _of course_ , Sylvain is doing what Sylvain seems to do best these days.

Felix isn’t the only one who notices. Margrave Gautier watches his son disappear with a dark look on his face, standing out in stark contrast to the absolute pride of Felix’s father beside him. Felix imagines that Sylvain will be getting an earful tonight, which he deserves, but Sylvain will be so pleased with himself after. 

Later, after Ingrid has stopped stepping on Glenn’s toes in what Felix supposes was intended to be dancing, she rejoins Felix with a flushed face and a bashful smile. It’s not the bad dancing, Felix knows, because lately this is just how Ingrid acts around Glenn. She has always admired him, of course, but now she talks about ‘Glenn this’ and ‘Glenn that’ with pink dusting her cheeks and laughs a little too loudly when Glenn speaks to her (and Felix is sure that Glenn is not particularly humorous). It’s gross, and it reminds Felix a bit of Sylvain and of the girls who act like idiots around him. But Ingrid isn’t an idiot, and neither is Sylvain, so Felix is starting to believe that romance — or whatever they want to call this — is something that makes people act willfully stupid.

Bothersome. 

Felix is glad that there’s no pressure on him to court one day, because he’s certain he would rather never think of such a thing.

“Having a good time, Felix?” Ingrid asks, and Felix gives her such an exasperated look that she laughs, though not unkindly. He knows she’s not in her natural setting here either, no matter whom the night is for. “Where’s Sylvain?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to go ask the maid he left with.”

Ingrid’s cheeks puff up in annoyance. “He didn’t.”

“You give him too much credit.”

“This is getting out of control,” she says angrily. “We should talk to him. He’s going to be the next Margrave Gautier; he can’t act like this. And he’s never going to become a knight if he keeps it up. He could be squiring or going to Garreg Mach soon, but he’s making a bad reputation for himself. You know, Glenn would never have—”

“I don’t think he’s trying to become the next Glenn,” Felix says. Whatever Sylvain is trying to become, though, Felix isn’t sure he likes it. 

Ingrid doesn’t end up having her talk with Sylvain, after all, because she decides the next morning that she’s too angry with him to join them fishing like they all planned. Dimitri gets pulled away to meetings with his father and several lords before they are set to depart.

Surprisingly, Sylvain is the only one who _does_ show up, with a faint bruise on his left cheek, a wry grin, and explanations about girls who don’t like catching him kissing other girls.

“Sounds like you probably had it coming to you,” Felix says dryly as he casts his reel. Across the pond from the small fishing dock they’re sitting on, a family of ducks waddles along the shoreline, seven ducklings all following their mother, though a small one trails further behind the others. 

Sylvain folds his arms behind his head and lies back. “Listen, who am I to ignore it when a pretty girl wants my attention?”

“I just don’t understand why it seems to be the only thing you care about anymore,” Felix says, tearing his eyes away from the pond to glare at Sylvain.

“It’s not the _only_ thing.”

“Could have fooled me. You didn’t even last through the celebration last night. That was _Glenn’s_ night, and all of your friends were there. But you were too busy sneaking off with some stranger you just met to hang out with us. You’ve been doing it all week. If you are honestly more interested in girls than spending time with us, fine, but at least don’t lie to me about it.”

Sylvain frowns. “Is that what you really think, Felix?”

“What else am I supposed to think? I’m surprised you even made it out here today with your busy schedule. I suppose I should be _honored_.”

“Felix, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it seemed like that. I…” He sighs as he pushes himself back up to sitting and meets Felix’s eyes. “My father was putting a lot of pressure on me about this week — noble girls to court and all that — and I guess I wanted to make him mad. I didn’t realize he wasn’t the only one who I’d be upsetting.”

“That’s the only reason you keep getting distracted with girls?” Felix asks skeptically.

Sylvain laughs and rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “Okay, maybe more like the reason I’ve been extra stupid about it.”

“Stupid is a good word for it.”

Sylvain bumps Felix’s shoulder with his. “You’re still mad at me. Why is it bothering you so much?”

Felix turns his gaze back to the ducks, to the one little duckling still lagging behind at the shore while the others have all swam off behind their mother. His cheeks warm, but Sylvain is watching him in earnest, like he always has, waiting for Felix to put it into words.

“Glenn is going to be gone even more now that he’s an actual knight. Dimitri is always becoming busier with royal duties, so I barely see him anymore. Ingrid’s too far away and, besides, she’s suddenly turned into _a girl_ — all she does is moon over Glenn. And you’re no better. Everything is changing all at once, and you’re all leaving me behind.”

“I’m here right now, aren’t I?” Sylvain says. “And sorry to break it to you, but I’m not ever leaving you behind, even if you _want_ me to. You’re stuck with me for life.”

He bumps Felix’s shoulder again — twice when Felix doesn’t respond to the first. Rolling his eyes and trying to hide his smile, Felix pushes a laughing Sylvain off of him.

“How about this?” Sylvain says and presses a hand to his chest. “ _I promise_ not to even think about flirting with another girl until it’s time to go home. It can be just the four of us together, maybe even Glenn too, if we can tear him away from his knightly duties.”

Felix highly doubts that Sylvain can stop himself _thinking_ about girls for a whole two days, but he feels appeased enough by the offer. “Fine, but Ingrid is really mad at you, you know.”

Sylvain grimaces. “Don’t suppose you’d put in a good word for me?”

“Do your own begging.”

There’s a tug on his line and Felix reels in a pathetically small fish that he ends up tossing back. They use the interruption to end that conversation, and Felix keeps fishing while Sylvain, his own line forgotten, tells a story about Dimitri visiting a few months ago and ruining all the good training lances and how he’s found a new favorite hunting spot they can go to next time Felix visits. 

It’s comfortable and familiar, and Felix is content. Eventually something across the pond piques Sylvain’s interest, though. He keeps looking over with a familiar spark in his eyes, until finally Felix follows his gaze to a group of girls who’ve claimed a spot on the shoreline to have a picnic. 

He’s not about to let Sylvain get carried away with himself so soon after their discussion, so Felix calmly puts his hand against Sylvain’s back to remind him... 

And pushes him into the water.

\---

The thing about listening to Sylvain go on and on about kissing — and some other things Felix is too embarrassed to think about and too shocked to ask how Sylvain even knows them — is that eventually, it’s bound to make Felix wonder about it too. 

Felix is a few days shy of his own thirteenth birthday the first time he thinks about kissing Sylvain.

He is sitting with Sylvain in front of the burning fireplace, while Sylvain shivers under a stack of blankets and furs. He’s only just been found and returned home after nearly two days spent stranded on the mountainside without a horse to get him home before the winter storm hit. The details of how it happened are still dubious, as Sylvain’s answers are vague and varied each time he is asked, but Felix is sure he can imagine how it really went.

He doesn’t press about it tonight, not after the first time he asks and Sylvain’s eyes plead with him to leave it alone. The important thing is that Sylvain is home in one piece and will be on the mend with rest.

The pink hasn’t quite returned to his lips yet, though he certainly has a peachier color in his face than when the Margrave’s men brought him home. His lips are dry and cracked from the cold, parted slightly as he hisses in air between his chattering teeth. 

Felix wonders if it would help if he kissed him. 

Could he warm Sylvain’s lips and quell his shuddering? Would it somehow ease Felix’s panic that hasn’t yet faded since finding out Sylvain was missing? He knows it wouldn’t be one of those warm kisses against soft lips, like Sylvain always talks about, but Felix has never been interested in kissing girls anyway. 

It’s a stupid, unexpected thought that brings heat to Felix’s cheeks, and unsure of where it even came from, he quickly dismisses it. 

But it’s not the last time Felix thinks about Sylvain’s lips against his own.

\---


	2. Chapter 2

The biggest changes come more swiftly than Felix can prepare for them. Friends growing up too quickly and wandering thoughts about Sylvain kissing  _ him _ instead of girls become the least of Felix’s worries. Not when the whole world begins to fall apart.

The news reaches House Fraldarius first, in the middle of a stormy night. Felix is already awake, unable to drift off with thunder so loud and distracting, when he hears the commotion outside his bedroom. Down the hall, someone knocks on a door — his father’s, considering it’s the only other occupied this night — and the familiar voice of his father’s retainer, Leon, calls out.

“Your Grace, there’s a messenger to see you with urgent news from the king. He says that he cannot wait until morning for an audience with you.”

It feels like ice has taken over Felix’s veins the moment he hears it. Nothing good could possibly be worth an urgent message in the middle of the night, let alone for a messenger to travel in weather like this. He slips out of bed and creeps to his door. There are more footsteps outside, fast and heavy, and when Felix cracks his door open to peer out, he sees the back of his father in his nightclothes and a robe as he rushes down the hall with two of his men in tow. 

Felix follows them to the great hall and remains just outside the doorway where he can watch them but stay out of sight. One of the royal knights, looking positively drenched in his heavy cloak, bows his head to his father while anxiously wringing a pair of gloves in his hands.

“My apologies for calling on you so late, Your Grace, but there’s been a horrible incident,” he says mournfully. “The royal family’s trip to Duscur turned out to be an ambush, a  _ massacre _ . Nearly everyone killed and…” He takes in a deep breath and tries to stand straighter, though he’s doing a horrible impression of it. Even from a distance, he’s shaking visibly. 

Felix is shaking, too. He grips onto the doorway to steady himself, but maybe it’s the ground that’s unsteady. Maybe it’s the ground that’s about to drop away and take him with it, because the world is going to break apart with whatever words are said next.

His father is silent and stoic, but Felix can make out the fist clenched tightly at his side.

Then the messenger announces solemnly, “The king is dead.”

Lightning illuminates the room for a moment, its brief light burning the image of Rodrigue’s grief-stricken face into Felix’s memory for years to come. He’s just lost his king and dearest friend, and he looks so much older than Felix has ever seen him.

But the bad news doesn’t end with that. Of course it doesn’t.

“Most died alongside him, the queen included. A few of the knights managed to make it out with Prince Dimitri, but he was also injured. They’re taking him to Fhirdiad for medical treatment and awaiting your command. We’ve not sent word to anyone else yet.”

Breathing becomes difficult, like at the end of training or the many times Felix has challenged his brother to a spar and lost. He lets out a stuttering breath as he steps into the room, full of both fear and hope.

And then his father asks that dreaded question. “What of my son, Glenn? Is he among the group traveling with His Highness?”

_ Please, let Glenn be safe. He’s on Dimitri’s service. He must be one of the ones escorting him home. He has to be... _

Another man, a knight Felix hadn’t noticed standing to the side, beyond the glow of the candlelight, steps forward to present a large bundle to Felix’s father. 

“He protected Prince Dimitri, sir. Because of him, the prince still lives.”

There it is, that world-shattering thing. 

Felix watches his father run a hand over the bundle, but doesn’t come closer. Even in the dim candlelight, he can tell what it is.

At fifteen, Glenn became a knight of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and their father could not have been prouder. At seventeen, he is dead, only a blood-stained cloak and his sword returned back home, and their father has the foolish judgment to say, “There is no greater honor than to give one’s life in duty to their king. He died like a true knight.”

Tears cloud Felix’s vision. He runs, without purpose, without a destination in mind. Just  _ away _ . If his hasty departure draws any attention, he can’t tell, and no one chases after him as he stumbles through the dark, out into the rain, until muscle memory brings him to the last place he spoke to Glenn.

There are no candles lighting the training grounds, but Felix knows right where to find the training weapons. He walks with one hand to the wall, as much to keep himself upright as it is to find his way in the dark. 

It’s not until he feels the familiar weight of the sword in his hand that Felix can finally breathe again.

\---

Rodrigue leaves for Fhirdiad by early morning. Before going, he finds Felix in the training room, slashing at a dummy, and tries to talk to him, but Felix shuts him out without so much as a glance in his direction.

“Leave me alone, old man,” he says bitterly, shaking the hand off his shoulder. “I have to train if I’m to be the next to uphold a knight’s greatest honor, don’t I?”

He feels some guilt as he refuses to travel with his father. He knows that he should go to see Dimitri, but he’s not sure he can look at his friend without imagining any variety of gruesome ends Glenn may have met standing between Dimitri and their attackers. 

With a heavy sigh, his father announces that he’ll send word from Fhirdiad when it’s safe for Felix to follow after him. Who knows if there are still enemies trying to cause trouble, and Felix should keep his head down, he says. 

And then he’s gone. Felix returns to his routine with renewed fury. 

He recalls vividly his last sparring match with Glenn — one Felix lost, of course, since he’s never beaten Glenn. He can envision every step, every meeting of their swords, the flick of Glenn’s wrist that disarmed Felix so easily.

Felix recreates each one, repeating the motions of the spar again and again. Glenn is…  _ was _ an incredible swordsman, a natural talent with a blade in his hand who worked for years to hone his skills that still weren’t enough to save his life.

Felix will have to improve and surpass him, because he’s never going to throw his life away. Not in service a king or anyone.

So even as his body fatigues, sweat dripping from his brow and hand shaking, he continues this routine throughout the day and picks it back up in the morning after a night of little sleep.

That’s where Sylvain finds him the next day. At first, when Felix hears footsteps entering the room, he assumes it’s someone come to urge him to eat something. It’s been a new person each time, all with the same anxious, pitying expression as he says he’ll come around for food when he’s ready for it. The truth is that he feels he might just be sick if he eats now, and it was with a bitter taste in the back of his throat that he even managed to eat the one dinner roll he took from his dinner plate last night.

Felix ignores the presence in the doorway and attacks the training dummy again. He’s going to need to replace it after today; it’s been chopped away in bits with his endless assault. He makes another deep gouge in it, right where a man’s heart would be, and satisfied, lowers his sword arm to his side. Panting, he wipes the sweat from his upper lip with the back of his hand.

“If there’s something to drink on that tray, you may leave it, but I’m not hungry,” he says finally.

“Sorry, no tray.”

Felix turns so fast his vision becomes spotted, but when it clears, Sylvain is standing in front of him. His smile is soft, but his eyes are as sad as all the others he’s seen these past two days. When he reaches out, Felix shoves his arms away. 

Everyone can keep their pitying, grieving eyes off him. He has training to do.

Sylvain looks hurt by the rejection, but it’s better than the way he was looking at him before. “ _ Felix _ .” 

Felix crosses the room to set down his sword in favor of one of the wooden training ones. “What are you doing here?” 

“Your father sent word to mine about Duscur. They said he had to travel to Fhirdiad without you. I was worried.”

“Grab a sword.” Without waiting to see if Sylvain will comply on his own, Felix grabs the other training sword and tosses it to him. 

Sylvain frowns as he barely catches it. “Is training really what you want to be doing right now? Felix, your br—”

“I can only do so much with a dummy,” Felix says. “I need a training partner. If you’re not up for it, then you can just leave.”

Though he sighs to let Felix know he disapproves, Sylvain takes up the sword and steps a foot back as he sets a defensive stance. He’s more adept with a lance in his hands, so in a sword fight, Felix could best him comfortably. Right now, he just needs a moving target to practice techniques on. 

“No one expects you to be training at a time like this,” Sylvain says as he blocks Felix’s first thrust with considerable ease. “They said you’ve been at this for two days. You’re going to make your father worry.”

Felix scoffs and lunges, but Sylvain dodges. It’s clear that he’s not even trying to fight offensively. “The old man won’t mind so long as he thinks I’m making myself into a worthy dispensable knight just like Glenn.”

Sylvain looks so taken aback by the comment that Felix gets an easy hit against his shoulder, but he shakes it off and blocks the next strike. “Felix, you  _ know  _ that’s not true.”

“You didn’t hear him praising Glenn’s noble death.” Felix’s attacks are clumsy. He’s exhausted his body, but the anger, the regret, the sadness inside him have not calmed and drive him onward. He lunges again, but Sylvain parries and — in a moment that passes more quickly than Felix’s tired brain can process — manages to knock the wooden sword from Felix’s hand.

It is so painfully reminiscent of that last spar with his brother that Felix’s eyes fill with tears as he watches the sword hit the floor. Something snaps and everything Felix has been holding back transforms into hot fury. He roars and runs at Sylvain, driving his shoulder into Sylvain’s stomach and wrapping his arms around his waist as he tackles him to the ground.

Sylvain groans. “Felix, what the hell… oh.” As the annoyance drains from his voice, he holds onto Felix.

Because now that the crying has begun, Felix can’t keep any of it in. It comes out in such violent, heaving sobs that he feels like he’s going to be sick, and he’s more aware of the ache in his limbs and head than he’s allowed himself to think about all day. None of it measures close to the ache in his heart.

Sylvain pets his hair, whispers soothing words until a while later when Felix runs out of tears and feels like an empty husk. It’s then he finally gets Felix to his feet and drags him from the training ground, stopping along the way only to tell someone he’ll make sure Felix eats if they’ll bring food. 

They settle in front of the lit fireplace in Felix’s bedroom with heavy blankets that Sylvain forces on him and a plate of food that Felix picks at. Sylvain does most of the talking, to fill the silence as he so often feels he must. He explains that his father headed immediately for Fhirdiad and sent him and some knights here at Rodrigue’s request. They’re to follow to Fhirdiad together in the morning, because Dimitri is going to need their support. 

The future of the kingdom is in a state of uncertainty with Dimitri too young to take the throne. The noble houses must all rally behind him to keep things from falling apart entirely, or so Margrave Gautier declared. 

Sylvain wonders aloud if Ingrid will also come to the capital when the news reaches House Galatea. It’s the first time Felix has spared a thought for her regarding Glenn’s death, and it twists his stomach again. She was supposed to become his sister in a few years when she married Glenn. Now…

It suddenly strikes Felix that now he’s an only child. An heir to a legacy he never even wanted. 

He leans his shoulder against Sylvain’s, because he feels too weighed down to hold himself up. How is it possible to feel so empty and yet so unbearably heavy?

Sylvain doesn’t ask what Felix meant about his father, and Felix is relieved because he doesn’t want to talk about it any longer. Eventually, Sylvain gives up on filling the silence altogether, leaving Felix with nothing to focus on but grief.

It’s too much for him to take without an outlet, without a target to aim it at. He keeps thinking about what the Margrave told Sylvain about Faerghus’ future being uncertain, about his own father worrying there could be more trouble brewing, about Sylvain’s future protecting the border against invasion from Sreng. What if there is more loss like this on the horizon? This one is already more than he can bear.

“Sylvain?” 

Felix’s voice is such a small, broken sound, but Sylvain still turns his eyes from the fire in response. Felix can feel tears coming again so he swallows hard and reaches out to grab a handful of Sylvain’s shirtsleeve to ground himself. His fingers squeeze once, twice, and then Sylvain’s hand closes over top of them.

Felix doesn’t have to speak up much with Sylvain’s attention focused on him, so he doesn’t even speak over a whisper. “Don’t ever die.”

Sylvain frowns. “Felix—”

But Felix feels a desperate, irrational need to hear Sylvain agree, as if it will make the world make sense again, even if it’s a lie. Sylvain has gotten so talented at telling his pretty lies in recent years — his cheerful face, his habitual flirting, the stupid facade he puts on for his parents and nobles he’s required to please — that he ought to have  _ one _ to spare for Felix when he needs it. “ _ Please _ , Sylvain, just say you won’t ever die. You can’t  _ ever _ .”

Sylvain studies him for a long time, the reflection of the firelight flickering in his eyes, until Felix scowls down at the floor under his scrutiny. The weight of Sylvain’s arm settles over his shoulders a moment later, and Felix holds in a breath.

“Felix,” Sylvain says, sad and serious. “You know I can’t promise that I won’t ever, but I’ll promise you  _ something _ , if you promise me, too.” 

Felix looks back up curiously, and Sylvain gently brushes bangs out his eyes. 

“Let’s neither of us die before the other,” Sylvain goes on. “We stay alive and die together someday. That way, I never have to live without you, and you never have to live without me.”

It’s the last time for years that Felix allows himself to cry, but he nods his head and stops trying to hold it in. Not the horrible, violent sobs from the training room, just sniffles and shuddering breaths and a wet spot on Sylvain’s shirt when he pulls him against his chest.

Sylvain buries his nose in Felix’s hair. “You have to actually say it, you know,” he says, voice muffled and tone mildly teasing as he shakes Felix’s shoulder.

“I promise,” Felix whispers.

And that’s that. At least if the world has gone to hell, there’s Sylvain, and Felix will fight tooth and nail to keep it that way.

\---

The times of childhood games and sneaking off while the adults did the important business end abruptly. They all grow up — and apart — quickly after the tragedy.

Faerghus is a mess of small rebellions and rampant thieves all trying to see what they can get out of the political upheaval. Rumors of the regent’s treachery, suspicion of involvement in the tragedy, create an obvious weak spot for the kingdom. Knights are sent out to defend territories and keep the peace, and for the most part, the presence of a small army is enough to deter violence, though not always.

Dimitri cannot yet govern as king, so he devotes his time to advancing through the military with his ever dutiful vassal Dedue by his side. Count Galatea is desperate to make a new match for Ingrid, even as she still mourns Glenn, and with no betrothal connecting the two families, the visits between House Fraldarius and House Galatea all but cease. Margrave Gautier sends his sons to the north to squire under a knight at the border; Felix learns this from a letter, in which Sylvain suggests it’s punishment for his behavior deterring suitable marriage prospects. 

Meanwhile, Felix leans on his skill with a sword and trains harder than before. Eager the test his blade, he jumps at the opportunity to get away from the suffocating walls of his home the moment his father suggests a squire position.

Dimitri and Felix both see their first real battle together to quell a rebellion in the west. Dimitri has a battalion to command, which he leads effectively and ruthlessly. Felix knows that his own blade takes some lives on that battlefield, but the most vivid part of it all is the horrific look on Dimitri’s face while slaughtering the enemies without hesitation or restraint. He wears a crazed grin as he roars with fury and adds one body after the next to the death toll. 

There’s no sign of the Dimitri that Felix has known and loved his whole life, and Felix realizes that his losses from Duscur just keep piling up. He feels sick and angry, and when Dimitri’s eyes find his in the aftermath, Felix turns the other way. He has no interest in talking to this beast living in his friend’s skin.

When he arrives back home a week later, there’s at least some good news in the form of the shortest letter he’s ever received from Sylvain. 

_ I’m home. Miklan has been disowned. He’s gone now. _

_ I hope you’re safe, too. _

_ -Sylvain _

Felix suspects there is more to the story that Sylvain may never tell. He never gives the full story when it comes to Miklan, after all, but it’s not like Felix has even needed telling.

He pieces it together from the rumors that reach Fraldarius. A small group of ruffians from Sreng attacked a patrol at the border, all of them after a single target: the Gautier heir. It appears to have been an assassination attempt, and Sylvain held his own well enough but was brought back home immediately.

Felix wants to go to him. He spends an afternoon debating it, but he can’t stop seeing Dimitri’s face or thinking about Glenn. And when he remembers the last day he spent with Sylvain and his idle chatting about his latest ‘love’... well, Felix has had enough heartache for now.

\---

“Imagine finding Felix Hugo Fraldarius in a training ground. I’m shocked.”

Felix sighs at the familiar voice behind him as hands land on his shoulders, playfully squeezing when he tenses. He puts away the training sword he was weighing in his hand and looks over his shoulder.

Sylvain grins. “Long time, no see, buddy.”

Felix brushes him off and continues his examination of the training equipment. It’s been months since the last time they saw each other — even longer since in any meaningful capacity — but Felix isn’t surprised to meet him here. Sylvain’s own enrollment at Garreg Mach has been pushed back by a few years, but of course his father would send him with the boar prince, just like Felix’s own father did. “Finally decided it was time to take training seriously, did you?”

“You know me, wouldn’t dream of rushing off ahead of you.” Sylvain picks up a short axe and tosses it from one hand to the other. “I’ve seen Ingrid and His Highness already. It’ll be fun, don’t you think? The four of us all here together. The rest of our class seems alright, too. That Mercedes…” He raises his eyebrows and whistles appreciatively. “They’re all talking about grabbing dinner together in a bit so we can all get to know each other before classes start up. I volunteered to track down our lone wolf here.”

Felix wrinkles his nose. “I don’t care what our classmates are like, so long as they can hold their own in a duel. As for the boar, he can keep his distance from me.”

“Still on that, huh?” Sylvain asks, sounding disappointed.

“Sorry to spoil your plans of it being a happy reunion,” Felix says, not bothering to sound sorry at all. The boar may have the rest of them fooled, but certainly not Felix. He’s seen his true face, and soon enough their friends probably will, too. 

“I guess the good old days really are over,” Sylvain says sadly, setting the axe back in place. “Well, say whatever you want about His Highness, but you’re stuck with me still. I told you once you weren’t ever getting rid of me, didn’t I?”

“Even if I want you to,” Felix adds dryly.

Sylvain pouts. “Do you?” 

Felix doesn’t. 

“Train with me or get lost,” he says instead.

Sylvain laughs but grabs a training lance. “Fine, we’ll go best out of three and then you come with me to dinner.”

“That’ll make you late.”

“They’ll get on fine without me.” Sylvain throws his arm over Felix’s shoulders, and the heady scent of too much spicy, citrus cologne has Felix scrunching his nose. Another of Sylvain’s stupid dating rituals to attract women by dousing himself in the stuff, Felix assumes.

Felix shakes his head and takes up a training sword.

\---

Academy life quickly settles into a routine of training, fighting in missions, and fending off (though sometimes failing to) his friends’ attempts to drag him from the training grounds for leisure time. 

Being around Dimitri again is the most uncomfortable aspect of it all. The boar puts on a good show of being the mannerly, kind prince, and it would probably be easy for Felix to let his guard down and enjoy the familiarity of being with his friends again. But he is resolved to not let himself forget, not even while everyone else is fooled and Dimitri keeps trying to get through to him.

Admittedly, Felix keeps his guard up with everyone. Ingrid is so stubbornly determined to make decisions based on how Glenn would have done things, and Felix can’t help but feel irritated about it. And when Sylvain isn’t neglecting training or chores the moment a woman turns his head, he is also being stupidly sentimental about days past.

Sometimes the past comes back to bite you, though.

“Have you seen Sylvain at all today?” Ingrid asks as she catches Felix on the way to his bedroom. 

She looks concerned and tense. It isn’t really unusual when the topic of discussion is Sylvain, considering she’s assigned herself the role of his keeper since they started school, but today Felix can guess the reason.

It’s only been a day since they returned from their mission to defeat Miklan. 

“I’ve been training all day,” Felix says. 

“Ashe thinks he went into town this morning, but he’s not back yet.”

“Sylvain can take care of himself.” 

Ingrid rolls her eyes. “I’ll believe that when I see it. He wasn’t himself yesterday. I’m worried. I think someone should make sure he hasn’t gotten into trouble.”

It takes all of two seconds for it to register with Felix that by “someone” she means him specifically. He narrows his eyes. “If you’re so worried, why don’t you go do it yourself?”

“I just think he’ll be more willing to listen to you. You can relate to him better than we can, since you’ve both lost a bro—”

“There’s nothing to relate to,” Felix interrupts. “If anything, he should be celebrating. After everything Miklan did to him growing up, he finally got what he deserved. He turned into the beast he always was. I’m  _ glad _ he’s dead.”

“You know it’s not that simple for Sylvain.”

He does.

Sylvain was fairly subdued the entire way back from the mission, carrying the Lance of Ruin with a look of wariness like he wanted nothing to do with it — and who could blame him after what they’d all seen? He retreated to his room immediately after reporting and turning the relic over. 

It’s obvious that despite Sylvain’s complicated relationship with his brother, seeing him turn into an actual monster and having to put him down has taken its toll. And Sylvain has a pretty long track record with unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Ingrid stares at Felix expectantly, and he groans.

“ _ Fine _ , but if he’s gotten himself into any actual trouble I’m bringing him back here for  _ you _ to deal with him.”

“Fair enough.”

If Felix knows one thing for certain, it’s that in bad times, Sylvain seeks to forget his problems in the arms of random women, and apparently, most of his life has been bad times. What does surprise Felix is that, when he finally tracks Sylvain down, it’s in the lowest, filthiest tavern in town. A dirty place filled with unsavory people is far from Sylvain’s natural setting, but there he is sitting in a corner table with a woman on either side of him. He’s red-faced and slouched in his seat, a little too relaxed with a pint of ale in front of him. 

Well, that’s certainly something new. Felix has never actually seen Sylvain drunk before. 

He weaves through a crowd of people to get to Sylvain and pulls the drink out of his reach just as Sylvain is about to pick it up. 

“Hey, that’s mine!” Sylvain protests, but he smiles, big and dopey when he sees who has arrived. “Felix! Ladies, it’s my Felix! And this is… Annie?”

“Alice,” replies the brown-haired girl with an unamused expression.

“Alice!” Sylvain says as if he knew all along. “And Caroline.”

The one with blond hair sighs. “It’s  _ Sophie _ .”

Felix fixes the two strange women with a glare. “Get lost.” 

“Felix, that’s not how you talk to a woman,” Sylvain says. “C’mon, have a—”

Felix ignores him. “I said beat it.”

The women have the sense to listen to him, despite Sylvain’s protests, but not without making it obvious how displeased they are to end their good time. Sylvain, on the other hand, is too drunk to muster up much more than a pout… or to notice when he’s being robbed.

Felix catches “Alice” by the arm before she can stow away Sylvain’s coin purse into the folds of her dress. “We’ll be hanging onto that,” he says curtly.

She drops the purse into his waiting hand and, with a huff, yanks her arm away. She and her friend disappear into the crowd, and Felix turns his attention back to his sulking friend.

“All that work, and now you’ve spoiled it.” 

Felix leans down to throw Sylvain’s arm over his shoulders to haul him up. “Ugh, you smell disgusting; no one was going to let you bed them tonight anyway. Come on, you idiot.”

“You’re mean.”

“Just saved you from having your money stolen, didn’t I?” Felix gets him to his feet, but Sylvain is lazy and heavy against him, which doesn’t make it easy for Felix to handle his much larger body. “What were you even thinking?”

“Wasn’t thinking,” Sylvain says. “Kind of the point.”

Felix frowns and begins to lead them out of the tavern. “Have you been here drinking all day?”

Sylvain hums. “A little. What are  _ you _ doing around here, though?”

“Looking for a half-wit who can’t keep himself out of trouble for twenty-four hours.”

“Felix,” Sylvain teases, leaning his head on Felix’s affectionately, causing them both to stumble because he can’t manage moving his head and his feet at the same time, “you shouldn’t have.”

Felix grunts and rights them both again. “Probably not, but Ingrid made me come.”

Sylvain groans dramatically and drags a hand down his face. “Ugh Ingrid... she’s going to slap my teeth right out of my head.”

“You’ll deserve it for acting like such a fool.” 

They make the trip back to the monastery without much difficulty, though Sylvain hangs off of Felix and stumbles more as they go. When he’s not pretending to charm Felix, he’s brooding, and Felix isn’t sure how to respond to the swinging moods. 

A pair of knights on duty gives them a disapproving look, and Felix is torn between agreeing or telling them to mind their own business. But Sylvain doesn’t even notice as he goes on about some gossip about a couple Felix has never heard of (nor cares to).

Felix debates dumping him at the infirmary for Professor Manuela to give him hell, but despite his protest to Ingrid otherwise, it feels like Sylvain is very much  _ his _ problem to handle. So he urges him onward, up the steps toward the dormitory.

Ingrid must be waiting up for them, because she cracks open her door to peer out when Felix is half-dragging Sylvain through their hallway. “Is he…?” she asks, opening the door wider.

“Just has too much to drink, the idiot, but I found him before he did anything too stupid, I think. I’ve got him. You can lecture him in the morning.”

Her lips press into a tight line, but it seems that the concern in her eyes wins out over her disapproval. “Think you can manage without waking His Highness?”

Sylvain looks entirely spaced out by now, staring at the floor with heavy eyes. “I don’t think he’ll be a problem.”

Ingrid sighs. “Okay. Just… come get me if you need help.”

With a nod, Felix continues toward their rooms.  _ Of course _ both his and Sylvain’s rooms have to be at the very end of the hall, past every possible set of stairs. He roughly pats Sylvain’s cheek to get his attention back on walking when it seems he’s forgotten his feet can do more than just drag. 

“Sorry,” Sylvain says half-heartedly, but at least he’s doing an impression of walking again. 

When they finally make it to his room, Felix makes Sylvain hold himself up against the wall while he pulls back the covers on the bed. He turns back to find Sylvain brooding, staring into nothing. 

Felix ignores it and tries to wrangle him out of his jacket.

“I bet you think it’s pretty dumb, me getting drunk, moping around about my dead asshole brother, huh?” Sylvain asks.

“Yes. Very.”

Sylvain laughs, and it sounds cold and hollow. “He was pretty terrible. You know, growing up I always worried it would be him putting me in the ground.”

“When you sober up in the morning, I’m going to be the one putting you in the ground for making me do this.”

He guides Sylvain over to the bed, which the fool collapses backward onto, landing askew with his legs still hanging off and one arm dangling over the side. Felix pulls at his boots.

“Oh? Why not now?” Sylvain asks.

“No satisfaction beating you when you’re an absolute disaster.”

“Aw Felix, you do care.”

“Shut up,” Felix grunts as the first boot finally comes off, with no help from Sylvain, who stares blankly at the ceiling.

“If things had been the other way around, maybe I would have been the one stealing the Lance and turning into a monster,” Sylvain says softly, like he’s forgotten Felix is listening.

“You wouldn’t have.”

Sylvain sighs. “How can you know?”

“Because I know. Miklan was a disgusting brute. You’re  _ you _ .” Felix manages to pull Sylvain’s second boot loose and struggles against his dead weight to get his legs up onto the bed. 

Sylvain has rolled his head to the side to watch him with a contemplative expression. It makes Felix want to squirm under his gaze.

“Besides,” he says as he reaches for Sylvain’s wrist to put his arm on the bed as well, “you’d have been too busy chasing skirts to steal a Relic. You don’t have the work ethic to lead a band of thugs.”

At least when Sylvain laughs this time, it sounds more genuine, until he settles back into his moody silence. He catches Felix by the fingers before he can withdraw his hand.

Felix doesn’t take his hand away, but he doesn’t weave their fingers together where Sylvain’s fingertips are pushing between his like a gentle suggestion. 

“Felix…”

“It’s late, and you need to sleep this off. You’re a nuisance enough when you’re sober.”

Sylvain’s eyes tell that there’s more he wants to say, but either indecision or exhaustion stops him. He lets go and closes his eyes. “Thanks, Felix,” he says sleepily.

Felix waits until Sylvain’s breathing evens out and then pulls the blankets up to cover him. He knows that tomorrow Sylvain will put on a carefree face and act like this night never happened, and he’s glad he’ll never have to watch him go through hell over Miklan ever again.

\---

The Blue Lions classroom is particularly (and exhaustingly) lively when Felix arrives after his morning sword training. With Garreg Mach’s ball quickly approaching, it seems to be the only thing his classmates care about — even though  _ some of them _ shouldn’t have the attention to spare considering how behind they are in their training.

Of course, Sylvain is at the center of the frivolous discussion. He leans against the table where Felix usually studies — and where Sylvain usually bothers him — as he talks with Annette and Mercedes, who has apparently been selected as their dance competition representative. 

“It’s a good thing the professor picked you, Mercedes,” Sylvain says with a wink. “Imagine the fuss Felix would have made if they chose him.”

Felix must be in the mood to suffer this morning, because he stupidly bites instead of ignoring Sylvain’s bait. “Why the hell do you think the professor would have chosen me?”

Sylvain grins. “Aw Felix, you think I forgot all those ballroom dancing lessons you had to take?” He gives the girls a conspiratorial look. “Don’t let his  _ charming _ personality fool you; Felix is actually a really talented dancer. Surprisingly graceful.”

Felix’s face grows hot, and he shoves Sylvain away from his desk, but Sylvain laughs it off.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be surprised by that at all,” Mercedes says earnestly. “Felix’s sword technique and footwork are very graceful! It makes sense that it would translate into dancing.”

“You’ll have to see it for yourself at the ball,” Sylvain says. “I’m sure Felix will save a dance for two lovely ladies such as yourselves, won’t you buddy?”

“I’m not going to the ball.”

“Of course you’re going,” Sylvain insists, stepping between Felix and the chair he’s about to sit in. “Everyone has to go to the ball.”

“It’s not mandatory, so I’ll be training,” Felix says, trying to move around Sylvain, but Sylvain isn’t making it easy. His hands drop heavily onto Felix’s shoulders to hold him in place, and Felix sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s just stupid frivolity.”

“‘ _ Just stupid frivolity _ ?’” Sylvain repeats like it pains him. “‘This is one of the most important nights of our time here at the Academy. Why Felix, It could be the night we all find love!”

Felix wrinkles his nose in disgust, wishing he had just stayed at the training grounds. “I’m sure you’ll find enough ‘love’ that no one else will have to.”

Sylvain grins. “Nah, I’ll leave some for you, promise. There are going to be so many beautiful women to woo, after all. Just imagine: the night of the ball, a lovely lady catches your eye across the room. You’ve never met her before — or maybe you have but you’re  _ seeing _ her for the first time. But there’s a spark when your eyes meet and you take her out to the dance floor and dance the night away.” He slides his right hand down to Felix’s waist and pulls him close. Before Felix can tear himself away, Sylvain has grabbed his hand and is spinning them around, forcing him into an awkward dance around the table while Felix beats a fist against his chest in protest. “You’re thinking, ‘Could this be it? Is this the love everyone’s always talking about?” 

And then Sylvain dips him backward. Felix freezes, startled by Sylvain’s dramatic show of puckering his lips as if he’s going to kiss him. He thinks maybe Dimitri is reproaching him, but Felix is having a difficult time stringing together a coherent thought.

“Ugh, S-Syl _ vain _ !” Felix sputters and pushes his face away while Sylvain laughs and holds on tighter, even when Felix stomps on his foot.

“Can’t you ever behave?” Ingrid sounds one second away from grabbing Sylvain by the ear, but she’ll be lucky if she makes it before Felix decides to actually hit him. 

“Settle down, boys,” the professor says, upon entering the classroom at the worst possible moment. Felix wants to slink out of sight or stab something with his sword. “Everyone take your seats.”

Embarrassed, Felix finally shakes Sylvain off and drops into his seat. In front of him, Annette is giggling, though she tries to cover it with startled “eep” when Felix sees her. He directs his glare at his desk, willfully ignoring the eyes on him after that embarrassing display. Sylvain, idiot that he is, actually sits beside him, though he at least has the sense to look apologetic.

Felix ignores him the entire morning and storms out of class the moment it’s over, but Sylvain easily falls into step beside him on his way to the dining hall.

“Fe-lix,” he calls, half singsong, half whine. “Are you mad at me?”

Felix scoffs. “I know you’re not  _ that _ stupid that you need me to answer that.”

“I’m really sorry,” Sylvain says. Felix doesn’t detect any teasing in his voice, but even that doesn’t help Sylvain’s case much. “I was just having a little fun, and I really didn’t mean to embarrass you. Guess I got a little carried away.”

Felix shakes his head incredulously. “A little.”

“Okay, well, a lot,” Sylvain amends. “I still think you should come to the ball, though.”

“No.”

“Felix,  _ everyone _ is going to be there, you can’t just be the only person sitting alone in their room all night.”

“I won’t sit in my room. I’ll go tra—”

“If you’re not going, then I won’t go either.”

Felix stops, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Will you just leave me alone if I say I’ll  _ think  _ about it?”

Sylvain throws his arm over Felix’s shoulder and pats him on the chest with his other hand. “I knew you’d come around! I know some gorgeous ladies I can introduce you to. It’s going to be great!”

“I hate you,” Felix mutters as he stalks off again.

In the end, Felix does go to the ball. He begrudgingly spares a dance for Annette and Ingrid — the latter at least seeming as uncomfortable here as he does — but he keeps to himself for most of the evening. Someone does catch his eye across the room, though. 

Sylvain embraces another academy student — some girl Felix doesn’t recognize — in a close dance and talks with his mouth beside her ear. When he and Felix briefly meet eyes, he winks, and then eventually leads his companion away by the hand.

Felix doesn’t have a word for the disgusting, twisting feeling in his stomach, but he knows he’s had enough for one night. He downs the rest of his drink in one large gulp and heads to the training grounds.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I have a lot of the next chapters written, but it may possibly turn into 4 chapters instead of the currently marked 3 as I finish them up. We will see!


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